


How to Lose a Wizard in 10 Days

by GracefulLioness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambitious Draco, Ambitious Hermione, Auror Draco Malfoy, Bets & Wagers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fake Dating, Gratuitous baby talk, Gratuitous shenanigans, Journalist Hermione Granger, Masturbation, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Smut, They're both deceptive to get ahead in their careers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27056623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracefulLioness/pseuds/GracefulLioness
Summary: Hermione will do anything to prove to her boss at Witch Weekly that she's ready to take on more serious topics, including dating a man just to drive him away for the sake of her next column, How to Lose a Wizard in 10 Days. But pushing Draco Malfoy away proves to be a challenging task, perhaps because he's got ten days to make her fall in love with him.Inspired by How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 49
Kudos: 162
Collections: Dramione RomCom Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DramioneRomComFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DramioneRomComFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days (2003) - claimed by GracefulLioness
> 
> Everything you recognise either belongs to JKR or to the writers, directors, producers, or actors of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. It's not my intention to pass these moments off as my own writing. I'm just having a bit of fun. Don't throw rotten tomatoes at me. 
> 
> There are moments where I have taken dialogue directly from the movie, and other places where I have paraphrased it. 
> 
> Huge thanks to BiscuitsForPotter for being an amazing AlphaBet and friend! 
> 
> The AMAZING aesthetic manip was made by my incredible boyfriend, who’s a real photoshop wizard! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

If there was a person who truly enjoyed full staff meetings, Hermione didn’t want to meet them. Her boss, Serena Vacuariel, insisted that the meetings were good for company morale, but Hermione thought they were mostly a waste of time. Serena treated the hour like a sharing circle, praising the staff on churning out variations of the same mindless rubbish week after week with sickening positivity and backhanded compliments. 

While full staff meetings were decidedly awful, they were far and away _not_ the worst part of Hermione’s job. No, the worst part had to be the drivel she was forced to produce week after week instead of writing things that she cared about. Although she dreamed of writing for serious publications, for now, she was stuck at _Witch Weekly_ , where she had worked for two years. And while she recognised that everyone must start somewhere, she was tired of writing such inane articles such as “ _How to Use Magic to Have Enchanting Orgasms,” “How to Find Robes That Make You Feel Sexy,” and “How to Tell if He’s Flirting With You.”_

These articles weren’t exactly the kind she’d like to frame and hang above her desk. And they certainly weren’t going to win her any accolades. But for Hermione, writing wasn’t just a way to pay the bills. It was what she wanted to do—what she was meant to do. She wanted to make people think. Make them feel something. 

The problem was… she hadn’t written anything like that. Not yet, at least. 

But today’s staff meeting could be the key to changing all that. She’d been working on something a little different, and hopefully Serena would allow her to publish it in the upcoming issue. She just had to present a convincing argument. 

Somehow.

Hermione nibbled on the end of her quill while she waited to be called on. Admittedly, she zoned out a bit as Cormac droned on about some new trend in fashion. Long coattails. Or perhaps it was the colour fuschia. 

“Hermione, what do you have for us this week?” 

Hermione jumped slightly and straightened up in her chair. “Well,” she began, clearing her throat and pulling her parchment from her portfolio, “I’ve been working on something…”

“Oh, excellent. Is it a follow-up to that piece on Every-Flavour Lube? Everyone was hoping for a review.” 

Hermione’s face flushed scarlet as she felt Cormac’s lecherous stare at the insinuation that she’d been testing lube. “Actually—” Hermione shuffled her parchment and licked her lips. “I’ve been working on something a little different.” 

“Different?” Serena arched an eyebrow, her lips pursing with disapproval. 

“Er, yes.” Hermione passed the parchment across the table to her boss. 

Serena picked it up and her nose wrinkled. “‘How to Liberate House-elves’? Hermione...” she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, tossing the article back with a groan. “That’s not who we are here. After two years, I thought you knew that. We’re _Witch Weekly._ Fashion, Dating, Gossip. No _politics!”_

Hermione frowned and picked up her rejected column. “I just thought—” 

“Listen, Hermione, once you turn the column into a must-read, then I’ll let you write about _whatever_ you want. But for now, stick to the usual topics with minor alterations, okay? If you can’t think of something, I’m sure we could pick for you.” 

Before Hermione could reply, Serena moved on to Ginny, who would be covering the Quidditch World Cup qualifying rounds over the next two weeks. 

Good for her. Ginny actually _liked_ Quidditch. But she was stuck, apparently writing yet another inane piece on _lube._

“And Parvati, what do you have this week?” 

Serena was met with silence and Hermione turned her head to see Parvati staring absently at the table. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks somewhat blotchy. 

“Parvati?” Serena prompted again more forcefully. 

Parvati looked up, her eyes darting around the table before she slumped back in her seat slightly as if hoping to sink into it and disappear. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m not feeling very well today.” 

“She got dumped,” Ginny piped up. 

Ordinarily, Hermione would have been irritated with Ginny for sharing personal information about a friend with the entire office. But nothing garnered more sympathy at _Witch Weekly_ like relationship troubles. Parvati had arrived late this morning, her eyes puffy from tears. Having Ginny share that she’d been dumped was likely saving her from a lengthy lecture from Serena about “putting our best face on for the magazine.” 

A collective gasp of pity echoed around the conference room. “Oh dear,” Serena said with sugary sweet sympathy. “How awful. Write about it!” 

Parvati’s eyes grew wide as she quickly spluttered about her discomfort with writing about her personal life. Then, horribly, Serena opened Parvati’s ordeal up to the entire staff. “Who would like to write about Parvati’s break up?” 

A few people murmured as if considering it as Parvati frantically tried to talk Serena out of the idea. 

Hermione found herself thrusting her hand forcefully into the air. “I’ll do it.” 

Parvati gaped at her, appalled. 

Hermione rushed to elaborate. “I mean… I’ll sort of do it.” The idea was only half-formed, so she spoke slowly, hoping that her thoughts would arrive before her words did. “Just look at Parvati.” She gestured to her friend, offering her a sympathetic look as everyone’s heads swiveled in her direction. “She’s an amazing witch. Beautiful, intelligent, charming, but she has a bit of a problem holding on to men and she doesn’t really know why.” Hermione knew exactly why Parvati had been dumped. She thought back to this morning, when Parvati had lamented the loss of her new relationship. She’d said that she loved the man after only two dates. She said that afterwards he became a bit more distant and stopped replying to her owls and Floo calls. Parvati apparently even stopped by his flat a few times to try to track him down. It was only a few days after this that Parvati had been dumped. 

Hermione turned back to her boss. “And I think a lot of our readers are like that as well. Dating is hard. So, I was thinking that I could start dating a wizard and then drive him away by making the simple mistakes so many witches make every day. So… it’ll be sort of a dating How-To… in reverse...” 

Serena’s eyes sparkled with the promise of a juicy new column. “How to Lose a Wizard in Ten Days. Yes, I love it. Do it.” 

“Ten days?” Hermione jumped in before Serena could shift her focus to the next person at the table. 

“Yes. We are going to print in eleven days, and I’ll need it on my desk by that morning.” 

Serena moved on to the next person before Hermione could ask anymore questions.

After the meeting, Hermione filed out of the conference room with Ginny and Parvati. They quickly returned to their desks to retrieve their cloaks and bags before leaving the office to get a quick lunch. On their way out of the lobby, Hermione was startled to see Pansy Parkinson standing by the reception desk. 

As they passed, Pansy’s eyes lit up. “Hermione, Ginny, Parvati! Hello! It’s been so long!” 

Hermione plastered a smile on her face, taken aback by Pansy’s friendliness. She had never been nice to any of them in school. “Pansy, good to see you,” Hermione greeted as they all paused in the lobby. 

“What brings you to Witch Weekly?” Ginny asked, arching a pale brow. 

“Serena’s a friend of my mother’s,” Pansy explained, looking past them and waving delicately at someone behind Parvati. Hermione turned to see Serena approaching. 

Pansy greeted Serena with a kiss on each cheek. “Do you ladies know each other?” Serena asked. 

“We went to school together,” Pansy replied, smiling at the trio of Gryffindors like they were all the best of friends. 

“How marvelous! Oh, Pansy, you simply must hear what Hermione’s going to be working on this week.” Serena grinned and pulled Hermione closer by the arm so that Pansy could get a good look at her. 

“I love your column, Hermione. I _never_ miss it.” There was a glint in Pansy’s eye, and Hermione wasn’t sure if she was mocking her or not. 

“It’s going to be called _How to Lose a Wizard in Ten Days._ She’s actually going to start dating a man and then drive him away to show our readers what not to do in relationships.” Serena was grinning from ear to ear as she explained Hermione’s task. 

Pansy laughed. “Sounds vicious. I can’t wait to read it.” 

“Now she just needs to go find the lucky man!” Serena gave Hermione a pointed look which she took to mean that they were being dismissed. 

“Good to see you, Pansy.” Hermione nodded and then led Ginny and Parvati out onto the street. 

As they made their way down the cobbled street of Diagon Alley, Ginny offered suggestions of ways for Hermione to push away the man she would date. “Oh! I know! Send singing letters to his work. Take it from me, he’ll hate it.” 

Hermione laughed as the lyrics of _“His Eyes Are as Green as a Fresh Pickled Toad”_ floated through her memory.

“Or!” Ginny burst loudly, grabbing hold of Hermione’s arm. “Show up to his work yourself and make him put up a photo of you on his desk. Or—”

“Ginny, wait a minute,” interrupted Hermione with a chuckle. “First I have to find the man.” 

“Oh yes. We should all go out tonight in Diagon Alley and scope out the wizards. Maybe we can even find a rebound for Parvati.”

* * *

That evening, the Leaky Cauldron was more crowded than Draco had ever seen it. He wouldn’t normally try to discuss business outside of work, especially not in such a public setting, but he knew that Pansy was going to try to take the assignment he wanted. If he had the opportunity to convince his boss that he was the man for the job, he was going to take it, even if it meant sitting in a noisy pub on a Thursday evening. 

“Draco here would have you believe that seduction is the best way to get results from a job like this, but I think it’s far more about companionship.” Pansy took a delicate sip from her martini glass. 

Draco and Pansy were both Aurors, and there was an opportunity for a promotion to go undercover with one of the country’s leading suspected crime bosses: A woman the papers had deemed “The Frosted Phantom” after a string of magical diamond heists. A stupid title, in Draco’s opinion, but it certainly painted a dramatic picture of their desired target. 

The Head of the Auror Department, Phillip Warren announced early in the week that he would be promoting someone to the undercover position. Draco and Pansy had been vying for the job ever since. 

“And who says that seduction and companionship can’t go hand in hand?” Draco shot back, leaning across the table to peer at Pansy. 

“Oh please!” Pansy rolled her eyes. “You’ve never had an actual relationship before in your life! You wouldn’t even know how to pretend to be in one, let alone go undercover with our suspected jewel thief.” 

Draco scoffed and sat back in his chair. “My choice to steer clear of commitment shouldn’t be called into question here. If anything, I would consider it an asset. It means I won’t get attached.” 

“A woman like her is probably craving attachment, whether that means commitment or not. Companionship is something that everyone desires.” Pansy jabbed one of her manicured fingernails into the tabletop to accentuate her point. 

“I can offer her companionship.” 

“Companionship isn’t the same thing as orgasms,” Pansy sneered. 

“Alright, you two,” Warren cut them off with a wave of both of his hands. “I haven’t made any decisions yet. However, I have to say that I agree with Pansy. In order to get close to the Phantom, the person we put in will have to establish a relationship with her and her organisation. It could span months. We have no way of knowing how long it will take for her to open up to someone about her plans and operations.” 

“I can do it,” Draco vowed. 

“You can? This person will need to establish trust quickly with a person who is likely going to distrust them immediately. One could even say that you’ll need to make her love you.” Pansy sat back in her chair and let her gaze wander around the crowded pub as if bored of the conversation. 

“I can make her fall in love with me,” Draco sniffed. He was growing tired of Pansy’s attempts to undermine him. He was more qualified than she was and she knew it. He was sure that was why she was being such a pest. “I could make _any_ woman fall in love with me.”

Pansy’s eyes snapped back to him, her eyes alight with mischief. “How about a wager then?” 

“A wager?” Warren parrotted, arching one of his bushy brows. 

Pansy turned to their boss, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Sir, you mentioned that we need to get someone on this by the end of the month, correct?” 

“That’s right. We’d like to start the operation on the first.” 

“Well, I would like to bet Draco that if he can get a woman to fall in love with him by the Ministry Gala next weekend, I’ll happily step down and he can have the job. But if he can’t…” Her red lips curled back over pearly teeth. “Then the job is mine.” 

Warren laughed. “If you two would like to stake your next career move on this, then I’m game. It would make my job a hell of a lot easier to not have to choose between you two.”

Draco frowned. “Ten days…” he said cautiously, counting the days until the Ministry Gala. 

“That’s right,” Pansy said with a grin. 

Suspicious, Draco narrowed his eyes at Pansy. “She has to be single, available, and straight.” 

“Of course, darling! And you can’t cheat. No love potions. She has to fall for you of her own free will.” 

Ten days was fast. _Very_ fast for love. But it would need to be fast when he was undercover with the Frosted Phantom. He had to at least try. “Deal.” He stretched out his hand and Pansy shook it with a look of elation. 

“Splendid! Now to find the lucky lady!” She turned in her chair, eyes dancing over the available witches in the bar. 

Draco’s stomach twisted. Pansy was up to something. She could try to set him up with someone horrible. Someone ugly or stupid. Someone who could make his life a living hell for the next ten days. 

At least it was only ten days. 

“What about her?” Warren suggested, leaning forward and gesturing towards a rather unfortunate looking witch with mousy brown hair and an awful, shapeless dress on. Draco wrinkled his nose. 

“No?” Warren turned his head in the other direction, craning his neck over a group of rowdy wizards. “Oh, look at her, Malfoy, you know _she’s_ looking for a man.” 

Draco looked in the direction of his boss’s gaze and saw a curvy witch in a skin-tight leopard print dress. Her makeup was so overdone that Draco was sure she would be unrecognisable without it. She was sipping her pink cocktail and eyeing the rowdy wizards with interest. 

“No.” Pansy’s voice cut across the table, causing both men to turn back to her. “Her.” 

Draco turned to where she nodded, but there were so many witches in the pub that he couldn’t be sure who she meant. “Who?” 

_“Her._ Grey dress, brown curls, gorgeous smile.” 

Draco’s eyes sought grey and was met with a petite figure in a slate grey dress which sank low in the back, dipping to the curve of her waist. Above several inches of pale skin were long thick curls bouncing around the witch’s bare shoulders. Her head turned to the ginger witch to her right and she laughed, the high, free sound rising above the din in the pub. Beautiful teeth beneath pink lips, sparkling brown eyes. Before he had the chance to feel relieved that Pansy had picked such a gorgeous witch for him, he recognised her with a twisting in his gut. 

It was Hermione Granger, surrounded by two of her Gryffindor friends. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Draco grumbled. 

Pansy’s eyes widened in feigned innocence. “What?” 

“You know _exactly_ who that is, Pansy.” 

“And didn’t we agree that you would have to get a woman to trust you who might initially be distrustful of you?” 

Draco shook his head. “This is different. Granger and I… It wouldn’t matter what I did, she’d never trust me.” 

“And you don’t think the Frosted Phantom might be just as distrustful of you initially? You’ll be a stranger to her, trying to get her to open up about her most guarded secrets.” 

She had a point, though Draco was loath to admit it aloud. Getting Granger to trust him in just ten days would be a challenge, but it would certainly prove that he was capable of going undercover. And at least he would be extremely unlikely to fall for Granger while she was falling for him. 

He glanced back at Granger. She was sipping from a glass of amber liquid, her eyes darting around the pub as she spoke quietly with Ginny Weasley. Draco had to admit that she’d gotten very pretty. Beautiful, even. He let his eyes roam her body, from her stylish heels to her shapely legs. His gaze lingered on her arse. As she turned, he could just make out her pert nipples through the silky material of her dress, and though the neck of the dress was high, he couldn’t stop staring at her breasts. 

Manicured fingers snapped in front of his face and he jerked out of his trance. Pansy was smirking at him wickedly. “Careful, or I’ll need to request an extra napkin to wipe the drool off your chin.” 

Draco ignored her. “Granger it is then.” 

One of Pansy’s eyebrows jumped. “Really?” 

Draco held out his hand again. “Ten days.” 

Pansy grinned, her eyes glinting with something Draco couldn’t place. “Ten days.”

* * *

“Okay, what about him?” Ginny jerked her head towards a group of loud wizards. 

Hermione craned her neck. “Which one? There are at least six of them.” 

“The one with the wavy brown hair.” 

Hermione glanced at the man as he talked and laughed loudly with his friends. He was certainly attractive, even if he was much too loud for Hermione’s liking. She supposed that it would be better to choose a man she couldn’t see a future with. It would be far easier to push him away if she knew from the beginning that they weren’t compatible. 

“No…” Parvati piped up. “Look at his left hand.” 

The man placed his hand on his mate’s shoulder, revealing a sparkling gold ring. “Oh, he’s married.” Hermione immediately turned away, seeking other prospects. 

“What about that man? At the bar. Black hair.” Parvati pointed briefly before bringing her drink to her lips. 

Hermione looked at the man. He seemed to be there alone. There was an empty barstool next to him, but he didn’t seem to be saving it for anyone. He was attractive, but not what she would consider her “type.” 

“Okay. I’m gonna go talk to him.” Hermione smiled at her friends before squeezing her way through the crowd towards the bar. Before she could sit down, however, the stool was taken by a voluptuous witch in a leopard print dress. The woman immediately leaned over and began chatting with the dark haired wizard. Hermione groaned, turning around to head back to Ginny and Parvati. 

As she rounded the bar, her path was blocked by a set of broad shoulders in finely tailored robes. “Hi,” a deep voice rumbled. 

Hermione looked up, clutching her glass to keep from spilling it due to her abrupt stop. Her breath hitched in her chest as her eyes locked with none other than Draco Malfoy. She braced herself for verbal abuse, but instead of his usual sneer, he smiled at her. 

“Hi,” she returned, breath caught in her throat.

“It’s been a long time, Granger.” 

Hermione glanced around as if an explanation of Malfoy’s behavior could be found in the surrounding crowd. No one seemed to be paying them any mind though, so she looked to him for answers. He was taller, or at least he carried himself that way. She had to tilt her chin up in order to look him in the eye in their close quarters. His features were still pointed, but instead of making him appear rat-like, he looked distinguished and handsome. Indeed, if she had never met him, she would have found him extremely attractive. 

“It has.” 

“How are you?” he asked. 

Hermione raised a brow. He seemed genuinely interested, and judging by the way his eyes roved over her face and body, it wasn’t an interest in catching up that made him approach her. Perhaps Malfoy was the perfect subject for her column. Attractive, but not someone she was interested in having a long term relationship with. And if she was being honest with herself, she would actually get a lot of joy out of making his life hell for a few days. 

“I’m doing well,” she replied with a smile. “And you?” 

“Fantastic.” He grinned, revealing his perfect teeth. “You look amazing.”

Hermione felt her face flush as Malfoy’s eyes roved up and down her body. “Thank you. So do you.” 

His eyes met hers again and there was heat behind them that Hermione had never seen directed towards her before. She lifted her eyebrows. “Unattached?” 

Surprise flashed across Malfoy’s face. “Currently. You?” 

“Likewise.”

He grinned again. Merlin, he was attractive. 

Hermione found herself grinning right back at him. “You know,” she teased, “You were truly terrible towards me in school.” 

His smile faltered slightly. “I know I was. Consider me _deeply_ apologetic. I’d love to make it up to you.” 

This was too easy. Hermione blinked up at him. “What did you have in mind?” 

“Dinner? Are you hungry?” 

Hermione nodded. “Starving.” 

“Great. There’s a place around the corner I’d love to take you to. Shall we?” He gestured towards the door with a smirk. 

Hermione nodded and held up a finger. “One second.” 

As she stepped past him, he stood still enough to let her hips brush his thigh. He grinned at her and said, “meet you at the door.” 

Hermione pushed through the crowd to make her way back to Ginny and Parvati. 

“Hey! Did you talk to him?” Ginny chirped as Hermione approached. 

Hermione handed her drink to Ginny. “Oh, the one at the bar? No. But you’ll never guess who found me.” 

“Who?” Parvati craned her neck to look around. 

“He’s waiting for me by the door. Don’t all look at once!” Both Ginny and Parvati whipped their heads around. Hermione grimaced, glancing over her shoulder to see if Malfoy had seen. 

He was smirking at the trio of witches, his eyes lingering on Hermione as she offered him a delicate wave before turning back to Ginny and Parvati. 

“Is that…?” Ginny asked. 

“Yes, it is.” Hermione reached into her beaded bag and found a compact mirror. She flipped it open and checked her reflection briefly. “He’s taking me to dinner.”

“Are you mental? What are you thinking?” Parvati hissed. 

“Actually, I was thinking that he’s perfect for the column,” Hermione said shortly, shoving the mirror back into her bag.

“I’ll say,” Ginny murmured, looking Malfoy up and down. 

Hermione laughed. “I meant because he’s such a prick, it’ll be fun to get under his skin for a few days.” 

“Under his skin, or under his covers?” Ginny waggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

“I’m not going to _sleep_ with him for this article, Ginny,” Hermione said sternly, leveling her friend with an icy glare. 

“Well, what _are_ you going to do?” 

“Tonight I’ll be charming and flirtatious to get him interested, then tomorrow I’ll… flip the switch.” She shrugged, her lips pulling up into a half smile. “I’ll see you two tomorrow at work.” 

“Be safe!” Ginny called after her as Hermione made her way back through the crowd to greet a smirking Draco Malfoy at the door. 

Malfoy opened the door for her and then placed a hand on the small of her back as she walked through into the cool night air. He kept his hand there, fingers pressing into the skin over her ribs as they walked. 

“Are we going far?” she asked as the breeze sent shivers over her skin. She was very aware of how chilly it was out, and the fact that this dress didn’t allow her to wear a bra. 

Malfoy glanced at her, and she saw his eyes flicker to her breasts briefly. She fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest. “Not far. We’re going to Il Piacere. Have you ever been?” 

Hermione’s heart leapt. It was an Italian restaurant that had opened up only a few months ago. “I haven’t had the opportunity yet, but I’ve been dying to try it. I work around the corner and must pass by every day.” 

“Oh? Where do you work?” he asked. 

“I’m a writer for _Witch Weekly,”_ she replied, nervous for his reaction. 

Malfoy turned his head abruptly, his pale eyebrows jumping up in surprise. “Really? Somehow I didn’t picture you writing about shoes and men.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to give him a proper dressing down for his condescension. “I’m trying to get into more serious topics.”

“Like whether or not blondes really have more fun?” Malfoy quipped. 

“You’d have to tell me,” Hermione shot back with a smirk. 

Malfoy laughed, and Hermione was sure it was the first genuine laugh she’d ever heard from him. A fluttering began in her stomach at the sound. 

With a gentle pressure on her back, Malfoy guided her towards the entrance to the restaurant. He asked the host for a table for two and they were quickly led through the dimly lit dining room to a small round table. 

To Hermione’s surprise, Malfoy pulled her chair out for her before settling across from her. He asked her what kind of wine she liked and then ordered a bottle for the table. 

“This is much nicer than I expected,” Hermione confessed as the waiter walked away. 

Malfoy glanced up from the menu. “Well, I have a lot to atone for.”

“We were _children_ , Malfoy. I haven’t harboured any resentment for you in several years. It’s in the past.” It wasn’t a total lie. She hadn’t forgiven him for bullying her for years, but it wasn’t something that still bothered her. She certainly didn’t lie awake at night devoting any time to thinking about Draco Malfoy and all the times he called her a Mudblood. 

“Even so,” he said, closing his menu and looking at her with sincerity. “The least I can do is take you out to a nice dinner and do what I can to make up for it.” 

Hermione smiled, still wondering what his motivation for asking her out could be. “Well, I appreciate the gesture.” 

The waiter returned with their wine and they ordered their meals. 

“So what kind of serious topics are you hoping to write about?” Malfoy asked, taking a sip of the merlot.

“I just wrote a piece on house-elf liberation. I’d love to write about magical and Muggle relations, werewolf rights, things that _matter.”_

“That’s the Hermione Granger I remember.” Malfoy smiled wistfully, and Hermione had to fight the blush that threatened its way up her neck.

“Unfortunately, my boss seems to think that people will only read my column if I review a new type of Every-Flavour Lube.” Hermione grumbled and swirled the wine in her glass. 

Malfoy’s eyebrows jumped. “I could help you research that, if you’d like.” 

Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes as heat bloomed up her neck to redden her cheeks. “Well I’m not working on that _exactly,_ but I’ll keep that in mind, thank you. Listen, it’s not ideal, but if I play by my boss’s rules for a while, she’ll let me write about whatever I want” She took a sip and then quickly changed the subject to avoid the topic of the column she _was_ working on. “So what do _you_ do for a living?” 

“I’m an Auror,” he said proudly. “Mostly petty crimes and guard duty so far, but I’m trying to get promoted to some undercover work right now.” 

“How exciting.” Hermione leaned forward and rested her chin on her hands and flashing him a flirtatious smile. “What kind of undercover work?” 

“Not allowed to discuss it, I’m afraid.” 

“Is it dangerous?” 

“It could be. But don’t worry about me, Granger. I’m tougher than I look.” 

Hermione grinned at him. “So am I.” 

Malfoy’s eyes darted over her face as his lips quirked into a smirk. “I know you are.” 

* * *

Following a delicious dinner, Malfoy invited Hermione back to his flat for a nightcap. Ordinarily, Hermione would never go home with a man on the first date, but she had to be sure that Malfoy was interested enough to contact her tomorrow. She was still devising a plan to ensure that he would reach out to her, and getting alone with him seemed like a sure fire way to pique his interest. 

Malfoy only lived a few blocks from Il Piacere, so they walked. This time, he offered her his cloak, draping it around her shoulders as they strolled together. Hermione had to admit that Malfoy had been a perfect gentleman all evening. He certainly seemed genuinely interested in her. Perhaps getting him to want to continue seeing her—at least for a few days—wouldn’t be as difficult as she’d initially anticipated. And if he didn’t want to see her again then she would still have time to find someone new tomorrow evening for her column. 

When they arrived at Malfoy’s flat, Hermione was shocked to see how small it was. It was still twice as large as hers was, but she’d expected him to live in a luxurious penthouse suite. It was a one bedroom flat, but the living room and kitchen were huge. Malfoy poured her a glass of wine as she looked around, her heels clicking against the hardwood floors. 

“I like your flat,” she commented as he walked up behind her and handed her a glass. 

“Thank you. I like being out of the Manor.” 

Hermione didn’t reply, forcing the memory of Bellatrix’s wicked curses away from her mind. She wandered over to the couch and sat down, sipping demurely from her wine glass. As she eyed him from over the rim, she reached out to pat the empty place next to her. 

Malfoy chuckled and moved to sit next to her. “You are a thousand times sexier than I ever imagined.” 

Hermione let her tongue dart out to wet her lips as she glanced at him sideways. “You never really bothered to get to know me.” 

“What a mistake that was.” 

Throwing caution to the wind, Hermione turned and snaked her hand around the back of Malfoy’s neck. She pulled him in and kissed him square on the lips. 

He froze for only a split second before kissing her back in earnest. His hand snaked around her waist, fingers brushing over her bare back to pull her closer until their chests were pressed together. 

Her tongue darted forward, nudging his lips and then his tongue as he opened his mouth to her. She could taste the wine on him. His hand slid up her spine to delve under her curls, and when he gripped the back of her neck, she couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her throat. 

He pulled away abruptly, his face still a breath from hers, his fingers still tangled in her hair. “We should slow down… Take things slow, I mean.” 

“Slow…” Hermione breathed. She could feel how quickly his heart was beating and he was panting against her lips, and he wanted to slow down? She tried to quell the thundering of her blood through her veins by reminding herself of why she was here. This was a job. And no matter how attractive and charming Malfoy was being, it would still be extremely inappropriate for her to sleep with him, even if it had been _months_ since she’d been with anyone. “Yes. Slow.” She extracted herself from his grasp and leaned back, lifting her glass to take another sip. 

Before she could bring the glass to her lips however, Malfoy was pulling it from her hands and setting it on the coffee table along with his own. In the next instant his lips were on hers again, both hands clasping the nape of her neck. 

Her fingers found his chest and she moaned into his mouth at the feel of his toned muscles beneath his shirt. Promising herself that she would absolutely _not_ have sex with him, she shifted to swing one leg over his lap to straddle his hips. She wouldn’t sleep with him, but she had to be sure he would want to see her again and soon—at least that was the excuse she gave herself for rocking her hips forward against the growing bulge in his trousers. 

He moaned, his hands moving to settle on her hips, fingers bunching up the silky fabric of her dress and ghosting over her thighs. 

She was the one who pulled back this time. “Too fast,” she gasped, even as her hips canted against his. “You’re right, it’s too fast.” 

He nodded, but didn’t release his grip on her upper thighs. 

For a moment they sat quite still, their laboured breath mingling. 

Hermione couldn’t be sure who leaned in first this time, but the next thing she knew they were kissing again. Even more frantically than before. He wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her down until her back hit the couch cushions and he settled above her between her legs. She delved her fingers into his hair, gripping the silky strands as his hands slid along her body, brushing against the sides of her breasts and palming the curve of her waist. 

His center rolled against hers and Hermione couldn’t ignore the jolts of pleasure that coursed through her when he hit just the right spot. 

Suddenly, they both pulled apart with a gasp. 

“Slow down.” 

“Too fast.” 

“I want you to respect me,” Hermione offered breathlessly, looking up at him. 

“I do,” he panted his reply, a few platinum strands falling into his eyes. 

“Oh, good.” 

“And I want your respect.” 

Hermione nodded. “I respect you for respecting me.”

“I respect that.” 

Hermione grinned and allowed herself to chuckle as Malfoy pushed himself off of her. She felt cold from the loss, but forced herself to sit up and adjust her dress modestly. 

“I should go,” she murmured as he stood from the couch. “Can I use your Floo?” 

“Of course,” Malfoy said, offering her a hand to help her up.

Hermione picked up her wand and straightened her skirt. “Thank you for dinner,” she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. 

“Anytime, Granger.” He grinned wolfishly at her as he lit the fire with his wand and held out a pot of Floo powder. 

She grabbed a handful and tossed it in, watching the flames glow green before turning back to glance at him. He had a blazing look of triumph in his eyes as he said, “Goodnight, Hermione Granger.” 

Hermione smirked and blew him a kiss, almost feeling bad for the veritable hell she was planning to put him through over the next ten days. Poor guy. Then she disappeared into the Floo, intentionally leaving her beaded bag sitting on his entryway table. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, has it really been 4 months since chapter 1 posted? Sorry about the wait.   
> I've struggled with my muse for this one, but I'm determined to finish it no matter how long it takes. 
> 
> I can't promise a consistent update schedule, but I can promise that it won't be another 4 months before chapter 3 posts! I'll do my best to get those words out as fast as my muses can sing. 
> 
> Thanks for your patience. I hope you enjoy this one. 
> 
> Big thanks as always to BiscuitsForPotter for always being the best cheerleader, alpha, and beta.

“Granger? You’re joking!” 

Draco shook his head as Blaise handed him his coffee. They made their way away from the coffee kiosk, through the Atrium and towards the lifts. “I swear, mate. And she was  _ wild, _ I’m telling you.” The memory of the previous evening drifted through his mind — Granger’s thighs straddling him, her nipples taught under her silky dress, her hips canting forward to grind against him. 

“Did you shag her?” Blaise asked. 

“Shag who?” came an eager voice from behind them.

Draco and Blaise turned to see Theo hurrying to catch up. 

“Granger,” Blaise supplied. 

Theo’s eyebrows jumped as his head swivelled to Draco. “You shagged Granger?” 

Draco rushed to quell this misunderstanding, lest someone overhear and begin to spread gossip. “No. I absolutely did  _ not _ shag her.” He gave them both a hard look. The lift doors opened and the three of them stepped in. Mercifully, they were alone. “I took her to dinner and then we snogged a bit. But that’s all.”

“How did this even happen? I thought you two hated each other.” 

Draco filled them in about the opportunity to go undercover and the resulting wager with Pansy and Warren. 

As they stepped off the lift at the DMLE, Blaise took a sip of his coffee. “Well it sounds like it’s backfiring on Pansy a bit. It seems to me that she suggested Granger because she thought it would be impossible for you to woo her.” 

Draco smirked as he steered them towards the Auror Department. “I have no doubt that I’ll be winning easily. And if last night was any indication on how the next ten days will go, it’ll be a real  _ pleasure _ to hang around with Granger for a while.” 

Blaise and Theo followed Draco to his desk. Draco shot them both a look over his shoulder as he set down his coffee. “Don’t you two have jobs of your own to attend to?” 

“The archives can wait,” said Theo. 

Blaise nodded eagerly. “Yeah. You can’t just tell us that you snogged Granger and expect me to piss off to my office. We didn’t think that swot had an ounce of sexuality and now you’re telling us that she’s  _ wild?”  _

Draco just chuckled as he shed his cloak, stopping to pull out Granger’s beaded bag from his pocket. It was heavy, much too heavy for a bag of this size. He plopped it onto his desk with a low  _ thunk. _

“Mate,” Theo began, his tone mocking, “we could have helped you find a manlier bag.” 

With a scowl, Draco dropped into his chair. “It’s Granger’s. She left it at mine last night.” 

Blaise eyed the bag with interest. “I bet she did it on purpose. She’s trying to be sure that you contact her.” 

“What’s in it?” Theo asked. 

“I haven’t looked. But it’s heavy. I’m guessing she’s got an undetectable extension charm on it.” 

Blaise’s eyes flickered from the bag to Draco. “She left it at your place and you haven’t looked inside?” 

_ “Gentlemen,” _ Draco began, shooting pointed looks at his friends as he propped his feet up on his desk and clasped his hands behind his head, “a witch’s bag is a very personal thing. How could I betray the trust of the woman who must fall in love with me by rifling through her belongings?” 

The two wizards stared at the bag for a moment in silence. Then, quick as a Snitch, Theo flicked his wand at it. It’s drawn top opened wide and it lifted off of Draco’s desk and tipped upside down, it’s contents tumbling out like a small avalanche before falling itself. 

“Oops,” Theo chirped with a shrug as he pocketed his wand. 

“Theo,” Draco tutted with mock reproach. “You clumsy man.” 

All three men were still for a moment. Then they all simultaneously lunged for the pile of Granger’s belongings. 

The heap was mostly books. Ancient-looking tomes of various sizes that seemed to be right up Granger’s alley. Draco pushed most of them aside, but one caught his eye. The cover sported a picture of a woman in a Victorian bodice and a man in a billowy shirt which was open to reveal the smooth expanse of his chest. They were wrapped in a passionate embrace. The book appeared to have been read several times. The paper cover was worn and the edges of the pages slightly curled. 

His eyebrows lifted as he picked up the book and showed the cover to Blaise and Theo. Blaise smirked and then reached back towards the pile. 

There were a few makeup items that Draco examined — lipstick, mascara, and a pocket-size mirror. A small crystal bottle of perfume. 

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” 

Blaise pulled his wand and used it to lift up a lacy pair of emerald green knickers. A jolt of desire shot through Draco at the thought of Hermione Granger wearing Slytherin green knickers. Honestly, just the idea that Granger kept spare knickers in her bag was enough to have him imagining a dozen scenarios in which she might need them. 

Going red, he snatched them off the end of Blaise’s wand and stuffed them back into the bag. “Don’t get any ideas, gents. She’s mine. I need her to win the bet.” 

Blaise chuckled. “Only for the next ten days.”

“Yes.” Draco rolled his eyes. “After that, you have my permission to throw your hat in the ring.” He shot Blaise a smirk. “As long as you don’t mind my sloppy seconds.” 

Blaise leaned back, crossing his arms. “Not at all. I’m sure after ten days with you she’ll be dying for a real man to offer her some pleasure.” 

Draco just rolled his eyes and began shoving Granger’s books back into her bag. 

Theo leaned forward and picked up a small, bright yellow vial. “Finley’s Every-Flavour Lube?” 

Draco and Blaise’s heads shot up. 

“No fucking way.” Blaise lunged for Theo’s hands to snatch up the vial. 

“She told me she had to write a piece on it for work,” Draco said dismissively, returning his attention to the dwindling pile of items before him. He picked up Granger’s makeup and returned it to the bag and then held out his hand expectantly to Blaise. 

His friend’s eyes were twinkling with intrigue as he placed the vial of lube in Draco’s hands. 

As Draco returned the rest of Granger’s things to the bag — a sealed jar of ink and an old quill, a few clipped articles of her own as well as some from  _ The Daily Prophet  _ that he guessed she’d found interesting — his eyes fell upon something unexpected. Far more unexpected than lube or a dirty book or even green knickers. 

Tickets. A pair of them. 

He picked them up, his heart beating quickly, not daring to hope that they were what he thought they were. 

Sure enough, there they were. Two tickets to the Quidditch World Cup qualifying game between England and France. A game scheduled for that very evening. “Oh, Merlin.” 

“What is it?” Theo leaned forward to get a better look. 

“Do you have any idea how hard I tried to get tickets to this match?” Draco held out the tickets for Blaise and Theo to see. 

“You have to Floo her,” Blaise insisted, sitting up very quickly, his face suddenly very serious. “Even ignoring the fact that you have her bag, which she’ll definitely be wanting back, there’s a chance she’ll invite you to the game. And you absolutely have to go.” 

Draco checked his watch. It was after nine now. Surely Granger had arrived at work by now. He could probably reach her there. He quickly shoveled the rest of Granger’s things into the bag, setting the tickets reverently on top of the pile before cinching the drawstring closed. “Okay. I have a plan.” He stood up and hurried from his desk, Blaise and Theo hot on his heels. 

* * *

“I hate to disappoint you, Ginny, but Malfoy was a perfect gentleman. It was even his suggestion that we take things slow.” 

Ginny folded her arms petulantly and leaned against the partition between their cubicles. “So,  _ nothing _ happened?” 

Hermione smirked and sat back in her chair, twirling her wand in her fingers. “Well, I didn’t say  _ that, _ did I?”

A slow grin took over Ginny’s face. “So did you make plans to see him again?” 

“No, but I’m not worried. He’ll Floo soon.” 

“You should have made plans. You only have nine days, you know.” 

“I’m aware, Ginny.”

“And you’re absolutely sure he’ll reach out?” 

Hermione grinned. “Definitely. He’ll need to return my bag.”

Ginny’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “You left your bag there? Your special bag containing all of your secrets?” 

Hermione just shrugged, smirking at her friend. 

“You know, you’d make a great villain if you wanted to.” 

“I’ve considered that for a career option if this doesn’t work out,” Hermione quipped. 

“Hermione Granger?” A high-pitched voice rang across the sea of cubicles. 

She rose to her feet and raised her hand. “Right here,” she called. Turning her head, she saw several delivery elves weaving their way through the cubicles, vases of roses held high over their heads. Her mouth fell open as the first one approached her. 

“Delivery for Miss Hermione Granger,” the elf squeaked. 

Stunned, Hermione thanked the elf and took the first vase and placed it on her desk. Nine others soon joined it, each containing ten roses of various colours. The elves filed out, and Hermione plucked the small card tucked into the first bouquet. Before she could open it, Ginny snatched it from her grasp. 

She pulled the card from the tiny envelope. “One hundred times more beautiful than one hundred roses.” 

Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes. “Oh, Merlin. Seriously? It doesn’t say that.” 

Ginny nodded and held out the card so that Hermione could see for herself. 

“I think this means you successfully hooked him,” Ginny said, arching an eyebrow. 

Hermione grinned at the card. “This means he found the Quidditch tickets.” 

Ginny’s jaw dropped. “You left them in the bag? Hermione! How could you? What if he hadn’t contacted you? I’ve been looking forward to that game for weeks.” 

“Well, you might still miss it. I bet you anything he’s going to want to go.” 

Ginny shook her head. “No, Hermione.  _ No.  _ I worked so hard to get those tickets.” 

“You can still go. Just use your press pass.” 

Ginny stomped her foot petulantly. “But I’ll have to sit in the press box if I do that! I wanted to sit in that booth, Hermione.” 

Hermione gave Ginny her best puppy dog eyes. “Please, Gin? This would be the perfect chance to flip the switch with Malfoy.” 

After frowning for several seconds, Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. But you owe me.” 

Hermione grinned. “Thanks.” 

“Hermione.” The new voice rang across the sea of cubicles. 

Turning, Hermione saw Parvati approaching quickly. 

“You have a Floo call,” Parvati announced.

“Oh?” 

Parvati’s eyes twinkled as she nodded. 

Hermione grinned as she exited her cubicle to head for the correspondence room. Ginny was hot on her heels, practically bouncing with excitement as they walked. 

When Hermione opened the door, Malfoy’s head was immediately visible amongst the flames in the Floo. After sending Ginny a pointed look, the girl lingered by the doorway out of sight as Hermione walked inside. 

“Guess what,” she said with a smirk as she moved to stand in front of the fireplace. “I’ve got a really embarrassing display of roses on my desk.” 

Malfoy grinned. “You’re welcome. Listen, I called to negotiate the return of your bag.” 

Hermione feigned embarrassment. “Oh, I know. I can’t believe I left it there.” From the corner of her eye, she could see Ginny’s shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Well, I’m sure you want it back, especially with all those books and makeup and Quidditch tickets.” 

Ah! He’d taken the bait afterall. Hermione grinned. “Draco Malfoy,” she said, placing her hand over her heart as if appalled by his actions. “Have you been peeking through my bag?” 

Malfoy shook his head. “Absolutely not. I would never do such a terrible thing. You remember Theo, right? Well, he came by my desk this morning and knocked it over. He’s a clumsy man.” 

“You know,” Hermione began, crossing her arms over her chest, “you could just give me the bag now.” 

Draco sighed as if he hadn’t thought of such a possibility. “Damn. I’ve left it at my desk. I guess I’ll just have to give it back to you tonight at the Quidditch match.” 

“Oh, are you going too?” 

“I am if you invite me.” 

Hermione chuckled, holding back a scoff. “Well, I’d love to, but I promised Ginny I’d go with her.” 

“I’m sure she gets to go to all the matches. It won’t kill her to miss just one. And besides, I think you left your bag here because subconsciously you are  _ dying _ to go to the match with me. It would be very harmful to your mental health to deny yourself of your deepest desires.” 

Hermione laughed, unable to stop herself from thinking about how charming he was in that moment. “Alright, fine. I’ll meet you at the pitch at seven. Entrance three.” 

“Sounds perfect. See you.” 

With a smile that could have made any woman go weak at the knees, his head disappeared. 

Hermione turned back to the door to see Ginny grinning at her. She shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest. “And that’s how it’s done.” 

* * *

Entrance three at the Quidditch World Cup qualifying match was bustling with chaotic activity when Hermione stepped through the Floo at seven o’clock on the dot. As it was the last match that England had to win in order to qualify for the World Cup, fans had come out in the thousands to show their support. 

Dozens of drunk and rowdy people were milling around, some making their way into the stadium and others chatting and laughing loudly with friends. Hermione craned her neck over the sea of red-clad England fans and blue-clad France fans to see Malfoy smile at her from the entrance. 

Brushing off her red dress, she pushed her way through the crowd to approach him. He looked sinfully fit in his black tailored robes. He straightened the cuffs of his shirt as she approached. 

Hermione smiled as she came to stand before him, looking up at him. “You’re here early.” 

Malfoy leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “And you’re right on time.” He held out his hand, producing her beaded bag from his pocket. “I believe this is yours.” 

Hermione smiled and took the bag, allowing herself to blush demurely. “Thank you.” 

“You know,” Malfoy began, leaning back against a large wooden pillar and crossing his arms, “you don’t seem like the type who would want to go to the qualifying rounds for the Quidditch World Cup.” 

She wasn’t. In honesty, she’d only had the tickets because she’d picked them up for Ginny to have. But a Quidditch match was the perfect date to entice Malfoy into spending more time with her. Instead of sharing this information with him, she just shrugged and offered him a coy smile. “I think I watched my friends play enough over the years to develop an appreciation for the game. Shall we go in?” 

Malfoy nodded, and they entered the stadium together. He showed the tickets to the attendant, who then escorted them inside and up the narrow, winding staircases. Hermione looked at the raucous crowd of England fans in the stands as they passed. Some were talking excitedly with their neighbors, some were drinking from giant mugs of butterbeer, and some were already shouting at the pitch where several players were flying drills to warm up, barely visible from the corridors which led to the boxes. 

They climbed higher, and Hermione could tell by the way he was eyeing the passing stands that Malfoy was wondering exactly where their seats were. When the attendant opened the door to their box, Malfoy’s eyes went as wide as Quaffles. 

“Nice,” he hummed appreciatively as he took in their incredible view of the pitch and the lush chairs provided.  _ “Very _ nice. How did you manage to get these tickets?” 

Hermione took off her cardigan and draped it over the back of her chair. “Ginny got them, actually. I think she may have used Harry’s name. She can be rather shameless when it comes to getting good Quidditch seats. Hates sitting in the press box.” 

Malfoy smirked as he sank into one of the chairs and propped his feet up on the railing. “How did you manage to convince her to let you have the tickets instead?” 

Hermione smoothed out her dress and sat down next to him, offering him a flirtatious glance. “It’s part of the woman’s code. I had an opportunity to spend time with a fit man and she had to let me take it. I’ll make it up to her another time.” 

Malfoy’s lips twitched. “Fit man, huh?” 

Hermione just smirked and lifted one eyebrow at him before turning her attention to the pitch. “Why aren’t you wearing red for England?” 

He chuckled. “Even England can’t get me to wear red. But I must admit that you’re a vision tonight, Granger.” His eyes raked over her, lingering on her legs and chest before settling on her face. 

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. He was clearly just hoping for a shag. As if she would ever be stupid enough to allow herself to fall into bed with Draco Malfoy. She held back the impulse to begin pushing him away too early. It had to be done delicately.

When the match began, Hermione did her best to seem invested in the game. She didn’t dislike watching Quidditch. It’s true that she didn’t find the sport as exhilarating as many of her friends did, and she enjoyed it most when she knew someone on the team that she could watch and cheer for. Still, it was an exciting game, and she knew enough about it to follow it well and appreciate the skill these professional players had. 

Knowing that it would only help her ensnare Malfoy, she cheered when England scored. She gasped when the Bludgers came close to their targets. She lunged forward in her seat with rapt interest when the French Seeker dove suddenly for the Snitch, but it slipped through his fingers. 

Over the course of the game, France took a massive lead in points, ahead of England by 170 points. Hermione noticed that the English Seeker spent most of her time looking, not for the Snitch, but at the French Seeker. It wouldn’t do her any good to catch the Snitch now, so Hermione knew she would do what she could to keep her opponent from catching it. 

The English Beaters seemed to be of the same mind. They spent a great deal of time sending Bludgers towards the wiry French man to keep him distracted from glimmering glimpses of tiny Snitches.

Knowing that there likely wouldn’t be any game-ending plays until the points were closer, Hermione occupied herself with sending flirtatious glances in Malfoy’s direction. He was focused on the game for the most part, but when she crossed her legs, intentionally letting the hem of her skirt ride up her thigh, his eyes flickered to her. 

She grinned and leaned towards him suggestively, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. Reaching across the armrest, she placed her hand on his forearm, angling her body towards him. 

Malfoy’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He glanced at the pitch, where the Chasers were darting back and forth, before leaning in. 

Their lips met lightly at first, as Hermione could tell his attention was still split between her and the pitch. Slanting her lips against his, she ran her hand up his chest to draw him closer by the back of his neck. Her tongue darted forward, teasing as his lips parted to let her in.

She leaned closer, letting her hand slide up his leg to his thigh. With a sharp intake of air, Malfoy deepened the kiss, delving his fingers into her curls at the nape of her neck and drawing her in. As she let out a moan, his grip tightened. 

Though she reminded herself that it was all pretend, she couldn’t help the quickening of her heartbeat or the thrill that ran through her when he swept his tongue past her lips. 

A sudden roar from the crowd granted her an opportunity to break away. She turned from Malfoy quickly, rising from her seat in feigned excitement. The French Seeker had made a spectacular dive causing the English Seeker to follow suit. But it turned out to be Wronski Feint, and both Seekers pulled up at the last moment to the roar of a collective gasp from 100,000 spectators. 

Beaming, Hermione turned back to Malfoy. He sat stiffly in his chair, looking like he didn’t fully understand what had just occurred. His eyes flickered between her and the pitch. 

Malfoy’s focus didn’t fully settle on the game until England’s Chaser managed to get the Quaffle past the French Keeper. Like waking from a deep sleep, he blinked and shook his head, rising to his feet to stand beside her as the English fans cheered. 

Though his eyes didn’t wander from the rapid movements of the Chasers again, his hand settled on her waist, sending shivers up her spine as his fingers danced up and down her spine. 

The smooth git certainly knew what he was doing. Loathe as she was to admit it, Malfoy had her blood thrumming in her veins, her heart pounding in her chest. Even as England scored twice more and Malfoy cheered beside her, it was all Hermione could do to plaster on a smile to pretend she’d even noticed. 

With the difference in scores less than 150, the English Seeker began to circle in earnest, keeping one eye on her opponent and one eye out for the Snitch. Suddenly, an idea sprang to Hermione’s mind — a way to take charge of the situation for the sake of her career. 

“Draco,” she simpered, placing her hand on his forearm and looking up at him through her eyelashes. 

Malfoy’s eyes widened as he turned to her, as if he expected to suddenly see someone else standing next to him. 

She smiled and leaned into him as she bit her lip. “I’m thirsty. Could you get me a butterbeer?” 

Malfoy cleared his throat, his eyes darting back to the game quickly before he nodded. “Sure. I’ll just call an elf.” 

“No!” Hermione whimpered, tightening her grip on his forearm. “Draco, please. It’s slave labour!” She pouted dramatically. “Please, I’m  _ so _ thirsty.” 

A flash of irritation crossed Malfoy’s features as he glanced at the pitch again. England scored again to thunderous applause from the stands. “Yes. Fine,” he clipped. “I’ll be right back.” 

Keeping his eyes on the game, Malfoy sidled towards the exit of the box and then sprinted through the door. 

Hermione grinned and turned her attention back to the pitch. Quidditch games were hard to predict, but there was a definite buzz in the air that signalled an exciting finish may soon be approaching. She only hoped she’d timed it all out well enough. 

* * *

Draco raced down the winding stairs beneath the stands. Every chance he got, he peeked between the legs of the fans to check in on the game, but there were simply too many people to get a clear look at the action. 

He did seriously consider finding a clear place to watch and summoning an elf. Would Granger really know the difference? But he thought better of it. If she was to fall in love with him, he needed to care about her causes — or at least pretend to. 

The crowd roared again, and he dove into a nearby overlook to see what had happened. France had scored. The commentator recapped the goal. “Martin scores ten on Haverford. France now leads England 260-120. A difference of 140.” 

Draco quickly eyed the Seekers to make sure that they were still circling slowly before darting back to the stairs. 

The concessions were at the bottom, near the entrance. Normally, Draco didn’t mind being so far away in the booths. It was easy enough to call an elf if one needed anything in the middle of the game. But  _ no.  _ Granger and her bleeding heart… 

The crowd gasped, and Draco’s heart seized in his chest. He listened closely for the commentator’s voice. 

“What’s this? Oh yes! Garnier’s seen the Snitch! But Jones is hot on his tail.” 

The Seekers! 

Draco frantically looked for a place to see the pitch, but he was under the stands and couldn’t get a clear view. He was going to miss it! 

“They’re diving! The Snitch is within Garnier’s reach. And…” 

A groan from the stands, and Draco’s heart unclenched. 

“Garnier was nearly hit by Walsh’s Bludger there. Good defense from the English Beaters. And it looks like the Snitch has gotten away for the time being.” 

Draco ran. If he could just get Granger’s bloody Butterbeer and make it back to the box before the game ended, it would be fine. He could stand missing a couple of goals and a near miss. But he didn’t want to miss the catch. 

The bloke at the concessions box must have been ninety if he was a day. He puttered to the tap to pour Granger’s Butterbeer with the speed of a geriatric Flobberworm. By the time he approached the counter with it, Draco snatched it from his hands and tossed far too many galleons onto the counter before tearing off back up towards the box. 

As he took the stairs two at a time, sloshing Butterbeer with each step, he heard the commentator’s voice rise with excitement. 

“Jones has spotted the Snitch!”

Draco’s heart jumped and he ran faster, desperately looking for anywhere he could watch from. An overlook, another box,  _ anything.  _ But there was nothing. 

“Jones dives!” 

Nearly there. 

“Garnier pursues!” 

His heart was pounding. 

“They’re neck and neck!”

The crowd was on its feet now. The wooden stands creaked over Draco’s head as he sprinted towards the door to the box. He could see it. He could make it!

“And Jones has it! She’s caught the Snitch! England wins by only ten points!” 

With a groan, Draco reached the door to the box as the crowd erupted in deafening cheers. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the wood, clenching his jaw to keep himself from hexing the next person he saw, which was likely to be the witch he was trying to make fall in love with him. 

With a deep breath, Draco closed his fingers around the door knob and opened the door to see Granger screaming and jumping up and down. She turned to him, apparently oblivious that he had missed it all. She threw her arms around his neck, her earlier thirst forgotten. 

“Wasn’t that incredible?” Granger beamed at him, her voice barely audible over the sound of the thousands of cheering fans. 

Gnashing his teeth, he forced a smile and held out the Butterbeer for her. 

She looked surprised to see it, as if she’d forgotten she even sent him on such an unnecessary errand. Then she smiled and took it from him before taking the tiniest sip he’d ever seen. “Thanks.” 

Draco seethed. He could have throttled her where she stood. Surely no jury would convict him once he explained.  _ “Your honour, she made me miss the end of the game, you see.” “Justified murder then. We can all agree.”  _

Then again, she was  _ Hermione Granger. _ War heroine, golden girl, Potter’s best friend. Perhaps they’d convict him after all, even despite how much she deserved it. 

He took a few calming breaths as he looked out over the pitch. The English team had all gathered together, cheering and hugging the Seeker as they celebrated their qualification for the World Cup final for the first time in nearly a century. Draco should have been cheering right along with them and the thousands of fans. He should have taken Granger back to his place for a celebratory shag to cap off the night in the best possible way. 

But now he doubted a good shag would sweeten his soured mood now. Even as Granger bent over to pick up her bag and cardigan, waggling her tight little arse in his direction, he couldn’t help the irritation he still felt for her. 

He pushed his ire aside, reminding himself to be charming. And saint that he was, he didn’t even sneer at her when she left the nearly-full Butterbeer sitting next to her seat as they made their way out of the box together. 

As they descended the stairs surrounded by excited fans, Granger wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned into his side. “That was one of the most exciting games of Quidditch I’ve ever seen,” she gushed, smiling up at him. 

Draco forced a grin back and draped his arm around her shoulders. 

“I mean, that last dive was incredible! I think Jones might just give Viktor Krum a run for his money. Don’t tell him I said so though.” She sent him a cheeky smirk at the mention of her old flame. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, Granger,” he droned, focusing his attention on getting out of the stadium as quickly as possible. 

“It’s too bad you missed it.” 

Something about her tone made Draco think that she didn’t see how it was her fault at all. Again, he reminded himself of the probable repercussions of snapping her neck and focused instead on the low dip of her dress. Perhaps if she agreed to go home with him, it would lessen the sting of the evening’s disappointing end. 

He opened his mouth to invite her over, but before he could speak, she was stepping away from his grasp. 

“Well, this was fun,” she said in a voice very much unlike the one he was used to. “Will you Floo? Or owl?” Her eyes were so wide and hopeful. 

Draco’s heart sank as he realised that the evening was over. She wouldn’t be going back to his place tonight. He wouldn’t be allowed to peel her pretty red dress off after all. “Of course I will.” 

Granger beamed and stood on tiptoe to kiss him, her arms circling his neck. He drew her in by her waist, letting his tongue trail along her bottom lip. 

She pulled away with a demure smile and then headed towards the Floo, casting a wink over her shoulder. “See you later.” Then she disappeared into the flames. 

Irritated, and without the titillating promise of Granger’s lithe body beneath him, Draco went home. Perhaps getting Granger to fall in love with him wouldn’t be as much fun as he’d initially thought. He shed his clothes and climbed into bed, still seething over the amazing game-ending catch he’d missed my mere seconds. 

He shook his head. He could still do this and get some enjoyment out of it. They just wouldn’t go to any more Quidditch games. It wasn’t like she could ruin his evening if they just went out to dinner. She was still a brilliant, sexy witch. He would just have to do better about controlling the situation from now on. He couldn’t allow his temper to rear its ugly head when he had such limited time to get her to fall for him. 

He tossed and turned, unable to quiet his mind. He couldn’t clear his mind of the image of Granger glancing sideways at him, crossing her legs as her skirt rode up her smooth thighs. The feel of her hand sliding up his leg as she leaned into him and swept her tongue through his mouth. 

With a groan, he rolled onto his back. He was rock hard. Cursing, he reached into his boxers and gripped his cock, thinking of the way her fingers had drawn absent-minded patterns on his inner thigh. He thought of how she’d felt beneath him yesterday, arching her back and pressing her breasts into his chests. 

With a groan, he stroked himself, imagining what would have happened if he hadn’t been so adamant that they should take things slowly yesterday. He would have brought her to bed, peeled off her dress and filled his hands with her perky tits. 

He wondered if she would have put her smart mouth to good use, and he groaned at the thought. Suddenly, his mind was filled with images of Granger’s pink lips closing around his cock, her tongue sliding against him, working him with the same concentration and determination she’d had in school when faced with a challenging subject. 

_ “Fuck.” _

Then he was imagining bending her over the side of his bed and pulling her head back roughly with a fistful of her unruly curls as he fucked her quickly from behind. He stroked himself harder and faster at the thought, imagining the way she would cry out as her tight cunt quivered around him. 

With a grunt, he came hard, painting Granger’s arse with his come in his mind’s eye. Chest heaving, he grabbed his wand and cleaned himself up. 

Already, he felt much more relaxed. So what if Granger had made him miss the end of the game? Maybe if she fell in love with him she could use her press pass to get two tickets to the World Cup final match. He could pretend to date her for another couple of weeks until the final. He fell asleep resolved to make the best of the next eight days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Feel free to leave me a comment here, leave kudos, subscribe, all the things if you're so inclined.   
> Also follow me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/graceful-lioness) for updates on my works or to leave me asks.   
> And come hang out with us on the Dept of Fandom [Discord](https://discord.gg/RHJWmhfa) server in the #gracefullioness channel to discuss this or any of my other works, or just to chat with me! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> No set update schedule for this one, but there is more to come! 
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/graceful-lioness) for updates and sneak peeks! And come hang out with us at the Dept of Fandom Discord server in the #gracefullioness channel! 
> 
> Leave me a comment if you're so inclined. Thanks for reading!


End file.
